It’s hypnotic, watching hidden skin unveil itself for the first time. One body against the other. The part of plush red lips painted; the others moist and nude. The moaning of pleasure is what vibrates in you. You watch her giving herself willingly to him. Giving herself to the pleasure. The man travels to the nipples on her ripe breasts, and your own stand for attention; then to the clit, and yours still hides, unable to say its own name.
You imagine your crushes every time. You forget the men that follow you in the aisles of the markets, the ones that yell from the cars, the lurkers and lookers. Instead, you think about giving yourself to the strong-armed teenage dream in your programming class; the light skinned smart guy in AP English; the Guyana with skin like black milk who denies racism in freshman comp. The point is this: The white bodies never stayed.
I don’t remember what I typed in the search bar. I don’t think I’ll ever find it again. Not that it really matters—what mattered was that moment the internet connected with me, the moment I was given something I needed.
She was a goddess. Not in a figurative “all women are divine” sense, not just in the trite plotline of porn world, but an actual goddess. Her body was firm and soft, a hypnotic deep brown, and draped in fabric that elegantly identified her status. She was in her domain, an equally exquisite brown god invited to satiate her. She was a delicate blend of sensuality and power, a power that motivated him to please her. She had a desire to be filled and to fill. Even in the wave of her orgasm, she remained divine.
Seeing her was exactly what I needed, what I was looking for. It was the most beautiful display of sex I’d ever seen, a doorway into the affirming black porn aesthetic. That orgasm has shaped every one since. Now nothing else will do. I only want to see women who look like me absolutely consumed by their enjoyment of sex. I only want to see women who look like me fucking men that look like me. I want to see them lost in it, entangled in it. In the age of murdered black bodies on TV, I want to see black people in the throes of passion on my laptop screen. I want to continue seeing these images of black people because it’s healthy, it’s normal, and it’s hot.